Curing Love
by smileeymonique96
Summary: Edward has just moved from Chicago to Forks with his parents Elizabeth and Edward Sr. What happens when he meets Bella who is ostracized because of her strange behavior due to what she endures at home. What about the Cullens? Not AH. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own anything Twilight. It all belongs to the wonderful Stephenie Meyer!**

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**Summary: Edward has just moved from Chicago to Forks with his parents, Elizabeth and Edward Sr. What happens when he meets Bella who is ostracized because of her strange behavior due to what she endures at home. What about the Cullens? Will they intervene?**

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**AN:/ I just wanted to let you all know, that the first few chapters may be a little slow, but please bear with me. I promise some major twists and turns soon. This will not be all human, I promise. **

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**Title: Curative Love**

**Chapter 1 - Hell Comes in Multiple Faces.**

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Bella's Point of View

I tried to stifle my sobs before they gave me away as I lay in my bed with my knees pressed tightly to my chest in a futile attempt to disguise my presence. As I heard the floor creak once again beneath his weight, on purpose I suspected, so that I would be quite aware of his closeness, I automatically clutched the blankets tighter around myself. I thought back to when these very blankets used to comfort me whenever I retreated to the comforts of my warm bed. Whether it was sadness, anger, or anything else, I could always find solace in wrapping myself up tightly in the soft afghan; it would make me feel as if I could disappear from the world until all of my problems were resolved. These blankets now, though, could not offer me any comfort, nor could I disappear from what was awaiting me just outside of my bedroom door a few feet away.

As I rocked myself again, back and forth, I was silently pleading, praying, and just begging for fate to not let him in, to give him the sudden urge to turn back around and march in the opposite direction of my room and occupy himself with something else, with _someone_ else.

But I knew I would not have such luck.

Not a minute after my desperate prayers had stopped, I heard the slow squeaking of my bedroom door being opened, announcing his arrival. I went rigid in my bed, still lying on my side as I fought the very prominent urge to scream aloud. I restrained my screams, though, only because of the thought of what my screaming and pleading does to him...how it only spurs him on. Only a moment later, I felt his disgusting breath - laced with alcohol and cigarettes - behind my ear.

"Sit up, Isabella," he growled at me. Fighting against my natural instincts that shouted at me not to give in to his wishes, I complied knowing very well how much worse things would get if I didn't. I sat up and let the blankets that had engulfed me fall away leaving me feeling exposed and much more vulnerable; the look on his face told me that he knew.

He took two steps away from my bedside at which he had been crouching earlier and took in my - what I was sure to be - very terrified expression. He was also sure to see the trails that my tears had left behind. After scrutinizing my face for a terrifyingly long moment, the corners of his disgusting mouth turned up into a smug smirk - obviously pleased at the fear that he instilled in me with his presence only. After reveling in his ability to elicit such reactions in me, he began to speak in his gruff, foul voice.

"Now, sweetheart - " I was angered just as much as I was disgusted by his use of the name 'sweetheart' on me " - do you really think that it's very polite to hide out here away from me?" he asked. "Don't you enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with you?" By this point I was shaking, because I knew, from experience, what was going to happen. I knew exactly what this revolting man was going to do to me.

And it wouldn't be for the first time.

"Answer me, Isabella," he demanded harshly, his lips pulling back to expose his yellow, deteriorated teeth.

"O-of c-course I do," I answered, barely being able to force the words through my throat due to the intensity of my quivering. Faster than I thought possible considering his age and obviously drunken state, he was in front of me, and I felt the awful pain in my scalp as he grabbed a fistful of my hair in his firm grip.

"Tsk, tsk, Isabella. I've told you time and time again what I am to be addressed as when you are speaking to me," he snarled menacingly. He still hadn't released his killer hold on my hair, and my breathing started accelerating to the point of hyperventilation. "Now," he continued, still not letting up on his hold on my hair, "repeat it _correctly._"

"Of c-course I do, S-sir," I corrected myself, mentally kicking myself for not remembering that significant fact earlier.

"You know, sweetheart," he began, speaking to me as if he weren't about to perpetrate the most loathsome, wicked act for a man to commit, "I think that it's been _extremely _too long since we've been together," he fake cooed. "Don't you?"

I was so overwhelmed by the irresistible dismay of the situation and the thought of what was yet to come, that I couldn't bring myself to conjure up a feigned response. When I didn't tell him what he wanted to hear, my agreement, the malignant spark that I have come to both dread and abhor appeared in his eyes. That spark told of his love and adoration of other people's dread. He was a sadist - malignant.

He couldn't draw this out much longer; both of us knew that. He was still smirking sickly as he appraised me in my state of fear.

_Just get to the point_, I thought desperately. I didn't think that I could take much more of this. I could already feel the bile rising in my throat, and I knew that I couldn't take much more of what he considered foreplay.

For the first time that night, my pleads were answered as he released my hair only to grab me by the top of my arm. He didn't say another word as he dragged me out of bed - stumbling all the way - and proceeded to take me out the door, down the hall, and into his own room. I was silently thankful that he has always felt the need for the scene to be in his room instead of mine; it would ruin the minute peace and sanctuary that I have found in my childhood room if he decided otherwise.

After throwing me carelessly onto the center of his bed I lost track of time and place. I purposefully took myself somewhere else - somewhere less painful. In my mind, I went somewhere where I was always happy. I tried to lose myself in all the happy memories that my mind could recall, instead of dwelling on what _he_ was doing to me. I revisited the park that my mother and I used to go to almost on a daily basis during my childhood days. I remembered sliding down eagerly as she awaited me at the bottom.

But the second my mother, Renee, entered my thoughts, the memory turned sour.

My mother's beautiful, young laugh soon turned to screams as I remembered what happened that night - the night it started. The night the bad things started.

Today is one of the best days of my life, _I thought happily as I lounged against the back seat in my mother's car. Since the time I was about nine years old, I knew I wanted to be a writer when I grew up; everyone told me it was my talent, and I believed them. So when my English teacher alerted me of the Washington Junior High Writing Contest, of course I entered. I wrote my original short story and submitted it within a week and a half._

_Of course I never thought - never _dreamed_ - that I would actually win. The best story in the entire _state_! Now my mother, my father, and I were enduring the tediously long drive back home from Seattle which is where the awards ceremony had been held. I peered up at my mother and father from the back seat to see that they were still smiling. The pride that was so evident on their faces caused my chest to swell with my own pride. The acceptance of what I was planning to do when I was older meant more to me than any title, ribbon, or plaque. _

_Oh, no. My plaque. I quickly searched the seats beside me, only to have my suspicion confirmed. I had forgotten my plaque. _

_"Mom! Dad! We have to turn around! I forgot my plaque at the ceremony!" I quickly told them. I could hear the desperation in my voice. _I have to have it back,_ I thought._

_My parents faces immediately fell at the thought of having to turn back; we were nearly half way back already. "Isabella," my father sighed, "when we get home, we can call the building and tell them to hold on to it for us. Then we can go on another day." He glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed my sullen expression which depicted my disdain for his plan. "Bells, sweetie," he tried again to make me see reason, "look at the roads, honey. They're getting worse by the minute. It'll be best for us all to just get home now. "_

_His words were true. I peeked out of my window and saw what he was trying to convey. In true, Washington fashion, rain was pouring out of the dark sky which was veiled with impervious black clouds._

_I suppose that the weather didn't bother me as much as it should have, though. I still wanted to get my plaque back. Who knows what could happen to it by the time we get back home to Forks. _

Looking back on that moment now, just like each time I had, I so desperately wish that I had only listened to my father.

_"But, Daddy, what if it gets taken? Or thrown out?" I asked him, persisting stupidly to get my way. I was never one for tantrums - I rarely ever threw anything close to a hissy fit as most teenagers do, but my plaque was a symbol of my achievement; it was my first real award ever. I'm always average at everything - except sports at which I'm less than average. Writing was the only thing I was good at._

_After arguing back and forth with my parents for what seemed like forever, they finally consented that we would turn around. After another eternity and a half, we were back on our way home, just outside the boundaries of Forks. I could see the relief on my parents' face - the roads had only gotten worse. The rain had doubled making traveling that much more hazardous. _

_I didn't let that bother me though. I had retrieved my plaque, and we were almost home anyway. I ran my hand over the smooth surface of my award, tracing the indentations that were my name. I was so lost in it, that for a moment, I didn't hear the high-pitched squealing that all of the sudden filled my senses. I peered out of my window to see what was happening. _

_But not before I saw my parents' faces first - the faces that were filled with dread, trepidation, and _knowing.

_Everything seemed to happen within the time span of a few seconds then. My mind barely registered what was transpiring before the car rapidly did a 180 degree turn so that we were facing the way we had just come, me bashing my head painfully against the window in the process. The car was still sliding across the slick roads until we came to an abrupt stop, having hit one of the massive tress that lined this road with enough force to disintegrate all of the windows on the left side of the car. My mind was struggling to come to terms with the shock that had completely engrossed my mind, when another shrill screech, much like the one our car had made only moments before invaded the sudden, panicked silence. _

_It wasn't until then that I realized another car was involved. I didn't have time to absorb what had happened, but before I knew it, my mother's car, her beloved Buick, was sandwiched between the enormous tree and the other car. _

_After that, the only things I seemed to remember were the deafening sirens and my father's devastated cries as they told him my mother didn't make it...._

His mumbling brought me back to the present. I noticed, with great relief, that it was over. "All her fault," he would mutter to himself as he pulled on his clothes.

And he was right. It was my selfishness that brought this upon myself. Upon both of us. He didn't always used to be like this. He used to be kind. Loving. Paternal.

"Leave," he demanded, angrily. And I did. I retreated back to my room where, after cleaning myself off and getting dressed, I crawled back into my bed and spent the rest of the night loathing my absolute _need_ to get that stupid award back. Much good it does me now, shattered and broken. I cried for my loss, and I cried for the situation that I somehow brought on. I cried because of his decision to let drugs and drinking comfort him when he was suffering my mother's loss. I cried because, even though my mother's life was the only one lost that night, I also lost my father.

Because he is no longer my father. Charlie the Chief of Police - the irony of that fact never escapes me - is my abuser.

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The blatant sounds coming from my alarm clock shook me from my sleep easily, as I wasn't able to submerge myself completely into slumber. This was the case more often than not. Though, I groaned nonetheless, not wanting to have to face the day - or the bruises. Remembering the night before with a strong shudder, I knew there would be marks - reminders of my mistake.

I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes quickly, knowing that I will need all the time I can get to cover up the marks. After throwing on jeans and a baggy t-shirt, I walked warily to my mirror, reluctant to face the damage. When I finally stood in front of it, I appraised my arms, neck, and face, assessing the damage. It definitely wasn't one of my worst days. I had only a few minute bruises along my neck and one that ran the length of my face from the corner of my eye to the edge of my mouth. The worst of them were along my arms which could be easily covered with my customary sweatshirt. I quickly threw it on, no longer wanting to see the purple and blue blemishes that were impressions of my father's hands.

I spent almost the rest of the time allotted to me for readying myself applying the only make up that I had, cover up, that I only used for cases like this. I didn't even bother with my hair - it was pointless. It isn't as if I have anyone to impress. Nobody at my small school of Forks High know of what exactly goes on at home, but they all know that I am not worth their attention or time. To them, I was diminutive.

I only wish that I could say they were wrong.

After hastily eating a granola bar, I was out the door and into my red Chevy. Most of the time, I am quite content with the pace of my truck and grateful that I got a vehicle in the first place. But on days like today, when I am running late, I would wish for something a bit more modern. Although I knew I would never dream of asking.

Arriving at Forks High, I parked my car quickly getting out while cursing my lateness which caused me to be forced to park quite a way's distance from the building, all the closer spots having been taken. The day began as usual. Just as always, as I walked through the halls to and from my classes, the other students automatically shied away from me as if I were carrying the long absent Bubonic plague. The snickered to each other as I passed, pointing and laughing at my obvious weirdness. It didn't faze me though. I had been ostracized by the student body for as long as I could remember. No one ever tried to talk to me. No one ever tried to befriend me. Though, now, I have come to be quite grateful for that fact. It wouldn't be fair for me to have friends; friends are supposed to tell each other everything, and I could never tell anyone of my 'home situation.' I like to think of myself as less ostracized and more aloof.

Taking my usual seat in the back of the class in the last period before lunch, I inwardly groaned. This class was by far the class I despised most - second only to gym. It was in this class that I was subjected to listening to the petty chatter and gossip of the two girls occupying the table in front of me, Jessica and Lauren. Today, they were discussing the same thing they had been for the last week - the arrival of a new boy, Edward Masen. Only today, they were even more worked up because, apparently, they had actually seen him and had - by the sound of their squeals - liked what they saw. I envied their lives and being able to be so excited over something as trivial and insignificant about a new boy coming to school.

But they weren't the only ones ecstatic about his arrival. The whole school was buzzing about it. I mentally rolled myself, and thankfully, after that our teacher, Mr. Adams, walked in and started class.

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I sighed with relief as I finally made it into the cafeteria and out of the cold, rainy weather that was Forks. I walked to the lunch line where I, one again, ignored all of the murmurs and snickers around me as usual. When I made it to the counter, I grabbed a serving of tomato soup that was served in one of those plastic bowls and a tray of spaghetti. An odd pairing, I know, but good nonetheless. As I finished paying for my lunch and turned around to make my way back to my table, I was met with a pair of piercing, emerald green eyes that were much too close than I was used to. My train of thought evaded me, and my common sense telling me to stop walking because those beautiful green eyes were getting much too close was smothered by the larger part of my brain that just wished them closer.

In about two seconds, I was cursing that larger part of my brain. As my reckless and thoughtless brain just propelled my body further, I tried to will myself to stop. But I felt a compelling pull towards the owner of those green eyes, as if it wasn't my choice, I just had to be close to them. And then we collided. I ran into a hard, yet soft body, and the impact sent me flying - tray and all - to the floor. My lunch toppled over, tarnishing my white, cotton sweatshirt.

As I sat there on the cafeteria floor, my empty lunch tray forgotten at my side, my cheeks burning with the intensity of my blush, and tears caused by my embarrassment threatening to spill over the brim, I heard one of the most beautiful male voices I have ever come across.

"Oh my gosh. I am so sorry; are you okay?" his voice came sounding sincere. But I knew better. I looked up to see that the owner of the beautiful emerald eyes had an even more beautiful face. His bronze hair shone oddly in the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria, his slightly tanned skin was unblemished, and his vibrant green eyes looked truly apologetic.

"Fine," I mumbled almost incoherently. Of course his eyes looked apologetic; whatever prank he was more than likely trying to play would just be that much funnier if I fell for his act. As he stood up, he extended his long hand to try and help me up. I so badly wanted to be able to reach out and take it, to believe that he was sincere. But being me, of course I couldn't. I knew that none of the kids of Forks High wanted anything to do with me besides the accustomed snickering and fun-making. I got up on my own, only to wish that I had stayed down. Everyone in the room was staring at me. I felt, again, the tears pricking at my eyes. I strode back the way I had come, towards the doors, intending only on getting in my truck and away from my own personal Hell. _Only to return to the home of my own personal devil_, I reminded myself wryly.

I made my way back to my old, dilapidated truck in a daze, thinking of who I assumed to be the new boy. I was sure that I would have seen him somewhere if he weren't new. Once inside the safety of my Chevy, I finally let the tears fall and resumed loathing my existence.

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**Thank you all for reading! Please leave me some comments. Good or bad, I want to know what you think! Also, please ask your friends to read this, as I am new to the site and don't know anyone. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** I, in no way, own anything Twilight.**

**The characters, setting, and everything else all belong to their respective owners.**

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**Title: Curing Love**

**Chapter 2 - Meet Edward Masen**

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**AN:/ Yes, I know this update was more than delayed. But, trust me. I have a legitimate reason. I was behind because I got grounded (that's one quirk of being a teenager) for a while and then after that - because I have such wonderful luck - my computer completely broke down, erasing whatever I had started for future chapters. Needless to say, I learned an important lesson there. Always use a flash drive! I've been working constantly trying to get back whatever was deleted, and, finally, here it is. Sorry again for the wait. I promise it won't happen again!**

**Enjoy!**

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**EPOV**

"Edward, sweetie, you have money for lunch, right?"

"Yes, Mom," I replied for the umpteenth time.

"And you put the new house key on the chain with the keys for your car?"

"Yes, Mom," I said again with a half-amused, half-exasperated sigh. "Really, Mom. I'll be fine," I assured her. My mother, ever the worrier, had been hounding me for the better part of the morning, acting as if I were about to attend a new Kindergarten rather than a new high school.

"Honey, you know it's my job to worry over you," she said matter-of-factly.

"I know, Mom, and I'm not asking you to stop worrying over me. I'm just asking if you could tone it down just a bit," I said good-naturedly. "I'm a Junior in high school; you shouldn't fuss over me so much."

"Alright, alright," she said. I waited for a few more minutes for what was sure to come, and then, "So you're sure you're ready then?"

Her question caused me to laugh out loud. My mother might have been a bit... worrisome at times, but I loved her for it. She was definitely one of a kind.

My family - which consisted of myself, my mother, and my father - had just moved from the obstreperous, boisterous, and teeming city of Chicago, Illinois, to the quaint, rainy town of Forks, Washington.

I had lived in Chicago with my parents since I was born, and I knew that I would miss everything that is The Windy City. All of its spectacles never ceased to amaze me. Everything from the numerous visits to the cultural museums to the beautiful view of the glistening, lustrous Lake Michigan had me entranced. But the most endearing and captivating aspect of Chicago, in my opinion, are the lights. The luminescent brilliance that are the Chicago lights have mesmerized me ever since I was a kid. Nights upon endless nights, I remember sitting beside my bedroom window, taking in the enchanting sight that it had to offer. With all of the towers and buildings illuminated, I always thought nighttime Chicago to be a constant festival of lights.

I was so enthralled by everything the city had to offer, that I couldn't imagine wanting to live somewhere else. My plans were to finish high school there, attend college at its University, and eventually, I know I wanted to get married and spend the rest of my life there. Of course, I wanted to see the rest of the world too, but home for me could never be anywhere else but Chicago.

But life in the city couldn't always be perfect. When a series of crimes began taking place not too far away from our neighborhood, my mother decided that she had had enough of the city life. It was time to ' try something new' as she had put it. She said she was tired of living in a big city, and, undoubtedly, my father went along with it. After discussing it a while more, they decided that they would like to move here, to 'experience small town life.'

Why they chose Washington state - which was practically all the way across the country - I'll never know. There are plenty of boring, small towns between Chicago and Washington. Michigan City, Indiana, for example, would have been perfect. But, sadly, it was Washington for my parents.

So after many family discussions and some relentless pleading on my mother's part, we decided to go. I, of course, wasn't happy about the decision at all, but I plastered a smile on my face nonetheless; it was the least I could do to repay my parents for all they had done for me throughout the years.

Despite their recent decision, I couldn't have ever asked for better parents. My mother, Elizabeth Masen, was the epitome of what a mother should be. She didn't work, as she was a stay-at-home mom, but I knew that without her, my father and I would be wrecks. The bills wouldn't be paid, there would be no food in the refrigerator, and God _knows_ that the house would be no where near clean. I silently thanked whatever higher force that made sure my mom grew up with all men. That way, she knew what she was getting into when she married my father and then when she found out they were having a boy.

My father, Edward Masen, Sr., was a very successful pediatrician. From what I have seen of his work, the children adore him. His very presence calms them down, and he always makes a point to indulge in small talk, efficiently distracting the child while he deftly does his job. He always works happily, even when he gets called to brutal hours in the middle of the night. Though his insane schedule has never kept him from being there for my mother and I whenever we needed him. He has always been a huge family man.

When growing up, constantly hearing my friends complain about their parents' bickering, getting divorced, or unflaggingly bringing home new boyfriends or girlfriends, I always remember to highly appreciate the devotion towards each other that my parents have obtained and preserved over the years, their love for one another not decreasing or wavering in the slightest. Naturally, they have arguments every once in a while; it was inevitable. But what healthy relationship doesn't? They always work it through, though; their relationship always comes out unscathed. If anything, it strengthens them. All in all, their commitment and adoration for each other has only grown with each day that passes.

Their fidelity is what provides our family with it's structure - the reason for the brass-bound binding that held my family so closely together.

So, finally, after numerous 'good luck' and 'have a nice day' lines from my mother and a wave from my father, I was off to start my first day as a student at Forks High School.

*~*~*

I pulled into the school's parking lot, already five minutes late, next to a beat up red Chevy. I got out of my car, feeling very sincerely sorry for whoever owned that piece of rust that was actually classified as a vehicle. Shaking my head, I half-jogged towards the building through the light rain that had begun to fall.

I made it to the school office without getting too wet, and quickly entered into the warm, small room. The secretary who introduced herself as Ms. Cope - a little more friendly than necessary, if you ask me - handed me my schedule and a layout of the school, and then sent me on my way to my first class which, glancing down at one of the papers she had handed me, I saw was Calculus.

I quickly rushed to the building of my first class and came to the door of the classroom which was shut, indicating that class had, indeed, already started. I knocked lightly before entering as discreetly as possible, walking up to the teacher's desk and handing him the slip that had given me to excuse my tardiness. I was thankful that the teacher - Mr. Peters as his desk read - had not been lecturing the class when I arrived. Yet I was dismayed to realize that still several students had noticed my entrance - despite my attempt at stealthiness - and were now whispering excitedly to their neighbors.

Taking the little white slip from my outstretched hand, the teacher turned towards class and spoke in a loud, clear voice, "Class, this is the new student, Edward Masen," Mr. Peters conveyed to the class. "He has just moved in from ...Chicago is it?" I nodded my head in affirmation. "I expect you all to do your best to make him feel welcome. Have a nice day, Mr. Masen," he added, once again addressing me.

"Thank you, sir," I replied before ambling across the classroom, taking an extra textbook that was sitting conveniently on the shelf as I went, to take one of the only seats available in the class which was next to a boy with a round face and blonde hair. After after the stint of time allotted to us for worked on whatever assignment they had been given - while I skimmed over the chapter they had been currently going over, the teacher walked to the front of the class and began answering any questions they had. Luckily, I had already begun learning the material they were going over now, so I wasn't too far behind.

Finally, class was over, and as I began gathering my belongings and slipping on my jacket - the rain had begun to fall harder now - I noticed the kid beside me had turned so that he was now facing me. I looked over at him as he stuck his hand out between us and proceeded to introduce himself.

"I'm Mike Newton," he said with a cocky smile.

I met his extended hand with my own and shook it twice. "Edward Masen," I said back to him. "But I guess you already new that."

"Yeah, man," he addressed me as if we had been friends for years. "Everyone's been kinda waiting for you to get here. It's not every day that anything really exciting happens here," he informed me. _I've only been here a few days, and I already noticed that,_ I thought wryly. Though, coming from The Second City, I hardly pegged a diminutive family of three moving into town to be 'exciting'.

I picked up my books, slinging my bag over my shoulder nonchalantly as I made my way towards the door. It wasn't until I was about six feet away that I perceived the group of about four girls standing to the side of the exit, giggling to one another while gazing over to where I was standing. When they noticed that they had been caught staring, however, they averted their eyes to the ground, yet the giggling continued.

I was used to this, of course. Not to honk my own horn or anything, but I knew that girls found me attractive. I had gotten my copper hair from my mother, although her's was tame and submissive while my own was rather unruly and utterly incompliant. _That_ I had definitely gotten my father who had the same unkempt hair. Mostly everything else, too, I had gotten from my dad. We had the same nose, facial structure, and body build - muscled but not bulky. The only other prominent features that I had acquired from my mother were her lips which were dark and full and her vibrant, emerald green eyes.

Mike annoyingly nudged me in the ribs with his bony elbow, nodding his head towards the group of girls who were still stealing occasional glances in our direction while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I grinned at him for his benefit and shook my head no. I have had my fair share of girlfriends over the years past, but, by the looks of their scanty attire, I knew that these were not girls I would associate that way with.

Ignoring the protesting from Mike, we walked out of the classroom and towards our next class while he gave me a brief assessment of the students of Forks High.

"And then there are the Cullens," he continued after fourth period in a tone that was almost... reluctant? As if he wanted to deny that these Cullens even went to this school.

A boy who we had met during second hour, Eric, sighed suddenly as if he felt the same towards this family. Despite my initial indifference towards pretty much everything Mike had been telling me so far - _what can I say, that boy can_ talk! - I was suddenly filled with curiosity as to why it seems like everyone hates this family.

"Continue," I urged him when he paused - probably to gauge my reaction to the attempted ominous voice he was using.

"There's two boys, Emmett and Jasper, and two girls, Rosalie and Alice. They're all seniors." he replied. I waited for him to continue as he seemed to mull over what to tell me. I could almost see the wheels turning and the steam coming out of his ears from the effort. "Well, they're weird," he offered as if that was sufficient enough of an answer.

"Any particular reason for that?" I asked, growing tired of the conversation.

"Well Emmett, the oldest... Dude, he's freaking _huge!"_ he exclaimed, much louder than necessary I might add.

"Yeah, everyone thinks the guy's on steroids," Eric added with a slight chuckle.

"And as for the others," Mike continued, pausing again, choosing his words carefully. I was waiting for him to continue, anxious and curious to hear the story behind this apparently bizarre family when Mike's opened his mouth to speak only to abruptly shut it again. "Speak of the devil...," he muttered almost incomprehensibly, his eyes widening as he stared at something down the hall. I followed his gaze and felt my own eyes widen as I stared at the group of four making their way down the corridor in our direction.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that this was the family that Mike had been just telling me about - _Coincidence much? - _but the fact barely registered as I was too busy gawking at the family coming towards us. All questions I previously had as to why they were different immediately disappeared as soon as I first laid eyes on them.

Automatically, my eyes were drawn to the blonde first, as if they were somehow magnetized. I couldn't look away. Her long, blonde hair that flowed in seemingly endless waves down the middle of her back, perfectly accentuating her flawless body. My mother always emphasized to me how rude it was to stare at women and not be looking at their eyes, but, now, I couldn't seem to pull my eyes away from the beautiful creature. _Not that I really wanted to... ._

My eyes continued to roam her supermodel-like form, when I saw a rather large, rather _possessive_ hand draped over her shoulder. By the way he was holding her to himself, it was made pretty clear to me that they were together. Noticing how his muscles bulged from underneath his shirt, I realized that Mike wasn't exaggerating at all. Whether or not he was on steroids, he was, well... huge. With the thought of those muscles - and more importantly what they could do - in my head, I instantly regretted every single second I shamelessly ogled his girlfriend. I mean, I was well endowed in the muscle department, by no means insubstantial, but taking one look at the bear of a highschooler, I knew that there was no way in hell that I would ever be even _close_ to a match for him.

The other girl was standing to the right of the blonde. She had short, black hair that stuck out around her face in perfectly arranged spikes. She was short and thin giving her the appearance of a pixie. The boy standing to the left of the her one was leaner than the bigger, brawny one, but still intimidating. He had on an impassive expression, and he looked like this was the very last place he wanted to be. His blonde hair slightly resembled that of the tall girl's. Come to think of it, he actually had a lot in common with her. _Not just with her_, I realized. _With all of them_.

Looking them over as a whole, I realized that they all share many of the same physical features. All four of them had the same strikingly white skin that was almost translucent, and they all walked with the same agility that seemed as if they were simply gliding over the school corridor. Their features were all straight and flawless. They were, well...perfect. The girls were beautiful beyond belief, and I have to admit that both the boys of the group were good-looking. I didn't find them attractive - I wasn't gay - but I could only imagine how often they have girls gawking over them.

Despite their good looks, they all had a certain edge to them - something that said unapproachable; their face, their walk, the very way they held themselves just screamed intimidating, as if they were somehow above the rest of us. But it wasn't just intimidation that seemed to keep everyone away from them. They were - for a lack of a better word - _frightening._ Even the tall blonde in all of her glory warned everyone in sight with her eyes to stay away.

But she was not the most daunting; Not even the big, burly one, who looked as if he could pulverize you with one flex of his over-sized muscles was the one that shook me the most.

The one that had me most on edge was the shortest. The pixie-like one. Possibly the youngest.

I had to think about it for a minute before I could pinpoint exactly what about her had set me so on edge, but then I got it. It was her facial expression. They way she looked at me when her eyes met mine was...disconcerting. I didn't know how to explain it right, but the look she gave me just looked...expectant? Like she knew something I didn't. And, honestly, it freaked me out.

She kept that weird look on her face until the family of five finally passed Mike and I by.

"What did I tell you?" said Mike smugly.

"They were...something," I replied. I noticed my voice was a bit off. Mike laughed, and resumed prattling about anything and everything there was to know about Forks High School.

I thought again of the rather unconventional group. The beautiful blonde girl, her bulky boyfriend, the stoic blonde boy, and the petite, spiky-haired girl.

_Definitely_ something.

*~*~*

The day passed on leaving me with an ache for Chicago and an enormous headache. When Mike said that he was going to tell me everything and anything, I didn't think he was necessarily being literal. Needless to say, I was wrong.

He wouldn't. Stop. Talking.

Aside from that, they day had gone well. I had met a few more classmates that I got along with. Ben and his girlfriend, Angela, were kind and amiable people that I instantly knew I could get along with. I ran into two of the girls that I had seen earlier in the classroom and learned their names were Lauren and Jessica and that they usually hung out with Mike and his friends. _Joy._

We were sitting at lunch then, when I heard Jessica snicker over to Lauren. "Omigosh-" she _really_ pronounced it that way -"look how _wet_ she is! God, could get anymore _pathetic_?" she sneered. They laughed together, and, soon, the whole table was laughing except for Ben and Angela who looked around the cafeteria uncomfortably. I followed the line of their gaze and was met by an unsettling sight.

A girl who appeared to be about my age was walking towards the lunch line wearing nothing but a baggy t-shirt and a light sweater. Jessica and Lauren were right; she _was _soaking wet. Her long, brown hair was flat against her head, and a few strands stuck against her face. Looking around, I saw that we were not the only ones staring at her. There were numerous groups of snickering highschoolers laughing and sneering at her.

"Who is that?" I asked no one in particular. I couldn't help but watch as she waited in line to get her food, seeming oblivious to all the ridicule that was directed at her.

Mike smiled. "That's Sorry Swan," he answered, appearing to enjoy the nickname. "Her name's Isabella. I'm not surprised I forgot to mention her. She's-" he paused as if looking for the right word.

"Useless," Jessica chimed in.

"Socially retarded," Lauren threw out.

"A freak," another boy named Eric offered.

"-pretty much an outcast," Mike finished. "She has, like, no friends here. She's really weird."

"But it's not even our fault!" Jessica blurted.

"Yeah," Eric agreed. "We tried to make friends with her or whatever, but she didn't want to. She _chose_ to be the outcast," he clarified.

Somehow I found that hard to believe. Who would choose that for themselves? To be the object of an entire school's mockery? Surely there was something that they were not seeing?

Despite their claims about the strange girl -_ Isabella_, I repeated to myself - I wanted to talk to her myself. I wanted to see if she really was as... _strange_ as everyone else made her to be. Plus, I knew my mother would want me to. She would never stand for anyone treating another person like that; that was just the kind of person my mom was.

I earned quite a few curious and bizarre glances - and a slight smile from Angela - as I got up and started walking towards the girl. She was paying for her lunch now, and I began to plan out what I would say once I made it to her. As I was about to reach her, though, she unexpectedly turned around and took one step in my direction.

That one step was all it took for the two of us to collide and send her sprawling to the floor. I watched in horror as her tray of spaghetti and tomato soup - _spaghetti and tomato soup? _- splattered all over her white sweatshirt, most likely maiming it permanently.

From her seat on the floor, she looked up at me with big, brown doe eyes. Beautiful eyes, I noticed. Eyes that were filled with unshed tears. I finally came to my senses and crouched down beside her, thinking desperately of something I could do that would partially make up for the embarrassment I just caused her.

"Oh my gosh," I said, my voice filled with disbelief at what I had just done to the poor girl.

_God, why do I have to be such an idiot at the most inappropriate times? _

"I am so sorry," I continued. "Are you okay?"

I barely made out a muttered 'fine' as I stood up, offering her my hand for help off of the floor. She looked at my hand with something akin to disgust, and made a point of standing up on her own. With one last hate-filled stare directed solely at me, she turned around and quickly strode out of the cafeteria, her disregarded lunch tray still on the ground and apparently forgotten.

I stood there for a moment until I noticed that the entire cafeteria was gawking over in this direction.

Shamefully, with my eyes downcast, I made my way back to my seat where everyone was still staring at me. All of the sudden, Mike stood up, leaning over the table with his hand extended in a fist. "Man, that was priceless! Did you see the look on her face? Hilarious!" he exclaimed, his eyes bright and entertained.

"I didn't do that on purpose!" I defended myself, ignoring his outstretched hand. "It was an accident! I was just going to talk to her!"

"Yeah, it'll be best if you tell her that too. Really, man. Way to go. You are officially cool here," he replied looking pleased and completely ignoring my insistence that it was an accident.

"I told you, Mike. It was an _accident_. I swear it!" How could they think I would do something so cruel to a person who had done nothing wrong to me. And a girl too! My mother had raised me to always be a gentlemen and to treat everyone with the utmost respect _especially_ women. I was soon frustrated with the whole situation.

I had no more time to argue though. It was almost time for my next class, and most people had already left. I got up abruptly from the table, and stalked towards the exit, cringing as I had to pass the spot where I had knocked her over. _Accidentally. _

Walking down the hallway in what I hoped was the right direction, I pulled the list of my classes along with the school map out of my coat pocket. Biology was my next class, and I quickly made my way in direction of the room before Mike could catch up to me. Earlier in the day, we had compared schedules, and it turned out that I had this class with him too.

But, as my luck would have it, he caught up to me anyway. I heard him running in my direction from behind me, but I didn't turn around to see him come.

"Hey, man. Okay. I get it. It was an accident. It was funny as hell, but it was an accident," he said, sounding out of breath.

I just nodded at him in response.

"So are we cool?" he asked.

I didn't want to forgive him. I was still baffled at how he could just laugh at her like that, but I really didn't need the drama right now. "Yeah, we're cool," I told him.

"Good," he replied. "Well, this is the room," he said stopping by the door to the biology room. "I wonder who Banner's gonna pair you up with," he mused.

We entered the classroom, and as Mike took his normal seat, I walked up to the teacher's desk where he was grading some kind of worksheet.

"Hello, Mr. Banner," I said to get his attention without sounding rude. I didn't need a teacher on my back.

He looked up at me from his desk and stuck out his hand. "You must be Edward Masen."

I took his hand and shook it twice before dropping it again. "Yes, sir," I affirmed.

He nodded his head once. "Alright then," he said. "You can get seated at that desk over there," he said and pointed over to a vacated table. _Looks like I'm sitting alone..._

*~*~*

The rest of the day had passed in a blur. Biology had been boring, and gym, my last class of the day, had been uneventful. We had been doing some kind of national fitness test that was apparently required in the state of Washington.

Finally - _finally_ - the bell had rung, and I was making my way towards my car. On the way out of the building, though, I kept my eyes peeled. I wanted to see her again. The girl with the brown eyes. I wanted another chance to talk to her - to apologize. But no matter how slowly I walked or how vigilant I was, I couldn't even catch a glimpse of her. I sighed, deciding to leave it for tomorrow.

The rain had been on and off throughout the day, and, just now, it had started to come down a bit faster. I hurriedly got into my Volvo and sat down contentedly in the fine leather seats.

_God, I love my car..._

I sighed with relief when I finally made it back the house. The rain had really begun pouring, and, to be honest, it made me slightly nervous. I almost never had to deal with this kind of weather back home in Chicago. I had never been in an accident, but still, the potential was clearly there.

The second I walked in the door, my mother was there. I noticed with delight that the new house had already started smelling like the one I grew up in. That could only mean one thing: my mother was baking cookies.

_Yessss._

What would I do without my mom's home-made cookies?

"Edward! How was your first day of school, honey?" She walked up to me, and, despite my wet clothes, embraced me in a hug that only she could give.

Yes, I am almost eighteen years old, and I still love my mother's hugs. Sue me.

"It was fine, Mom," I answered trying to keep my voice light. I knew, though, that, sooner or later, she would figure out today's tragedies despite any of my efforts to keep it otherwise.

"Well," she huffed, "it doesn't sound fine. Really, Edward, how did it go?"

_Curse my mother's intuition._

"Really, Mom," I said, playfully mocking her tone, "it was fine."

"Edward, how long do you honestly think you can keep it in until you just blurt it out?"

And so, over my mom's cookies - which were delicious even though they looked deformed - I told her every single detail of the day's events.

*~*~*

"I forgot to ask you, Mom. How are you liking this place?" I asked her while eating a waffle the next morning.

"I love it! And, Edward, it's so safe here! I finally feel like I can relax! Did you know the chief of police lives right in our neighborhood? Only about two blocks from here. Isn't that great?"

"Of course. So really, though. Do you like this town better than back ho- I mean, back in Chicago?" I know my mom didn't like living in a big city that much, but she must miss Chicago a little.

She sighed a little. "Edward, honey, I know you miss Chicago, but you'll get accostomed to life here soon enough. Trust me, soon you're going to feel right at home here," she told me. I never really doubted my mom; she was one of the wisest people I know, but somehow I doubted that I would ever think of this drab and lifeless place as home.

I finished my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink before grabbing my book bag and car keys and heading for the door. Before I could leave, though, she came over to me and grabbed my face between her two hands and brought it level with hers. I smiled a little to myself when I noticed that she had to stand on her tiptoes to do it.

"I promise you, sweetie, soon you're going to love it here. You'll see. Now go," she said releasing my face and walking back towards the kitchen. "Find yourself some friends to hang out with. Find yourself a girl too," she told me laughingly, although I knew she was completely serious. "But she has to be smart!" she added as I walked out the door.

*~*~*

The day went by much like yesterday, save for Mike's constant rambling. _Thank God. _

Much to my dismay, I didn't see the girl again. Isabella.

Before I knew it, lunch was over, and it was time for Biology class. I walked into the classroom only to find that the seat next to mine on the table that was vacant yesterday had someone sitting in it. A girl someone. A girl someone who had brown mahogany hair. A girl someone whose brown mahogany hair was identical to someone's that I had... er ran into - literally - yesterday.

_What are you waiting for? _I told myself. _You've been waiting for the chance to talk to her. Move! _

I warily made my way to the desk and slowly slid out the chair beside her. Her head was bent over a book, so she didn't notice me when I had first walked in, but, now, as she heard the sliding of my chair next to hers, her head snapped up and she looked at me straight in the eye.

The intensity of her gaze rendered my mind temporarily absent, and it took me a moment before I could find the words I had so carefully constructed earlier.

"Hello," I blurted out. _So much for those 'carefully constructed words'._

She grimaced for a moment and then nodded her head. "Hi," she simply said sounding irritated and bored.

She had turned back to her book, and I thought hopelessly of something else to say to ease the obvious tension.

_Introduce yourself, idiot! _my inner voice commanded.

"I'm Edward Masen," I said. I'm ashamed to admit that my voice may have sounded just a bit pleading, as if making conversation could somehow influence her to forgive me.

She only nodded her response.

_This was going to be difficult..._

*~*~*

**AN:/ So there you guys have it. Edward comes from the perfect all-American family. And I couldn't help but portraying him as a bit of a momma's boy. Not in a pathetic way - you know the live-at-home-until-you're-thirty kind of way - but just a cute 'hey I'm a teenager but I still love my mom and I'm not afraid to admit it' kind of way. That's just how I always pictured him to be. **

**Thank you guys for reading! Again, I'm sorry for the delay and I promise you it won't happen again!**

**Now be good readers and follow the little arrow to comment.**

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